Rough Patches
by I'm Twitch
Summary: MichaelSara and LincolnVeronica deal with all of life's trials and tribulations.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Notes: **Chapter One of the final installment, R&R :

**Disclaimer:** Owns nothing.

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Ever since she was born, Ally had Michael's eyes, those deep pools always shadowing complex thoughts, even though she was only five. She had gotten my hair for the most part, except a tad darker, and Michael's devotion to everyone that she loved, constantly looking out for others, especially Tara. They had grown closer than most sisters ever did, even though they were only cousins. They'll be starting school soon, and I honestly don't think I'm ready for it. I'm already imagining it's going to be an emotional breakdown from hell, I'll be completely lost. I've ben trying to prepare myself for it, tell myself that it's inevitable, but the breakdown threatens to come early whenever I think about it, so I try to stay busy, enjoy it while it lasts. Whenever I saw her and Michael together, it was almost too much to take, my eyes would well up with tears every time. They shared a bond that I'd never known existed. She had his shyness for the most part, but when she said something, she put it tremendously blunt, there weren't any gray areas for what she said. I loved it, though, how she spoke exactly what was on her mind when she wanted to. She bottles things up, just like him, but I keep hoping it's just a phase that she'll grow out of, even though I know she probably won't.

"Mom! Look at me!" I'd had my elbows propped up on the kitchen counter, spacing off until Ally started yanking on the hem of my shirt.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Look at me, I dressed myself!" She was wearing a skirt/short set over a pair of overalls and a white t-shirt, and I couldn't help but laugh at her.

"I see that. Where's your Uncle Linc?"

"Sh, he's napping on the couch again, come on." She took my hand in hers and drug me along through the kitchen into the living room and sure enough, Lincoln was fast asleep.

"Honey," I whispered, crouching down beside her. "What'd you do to Uncle Linc?"

"Daddy had to go to work so I couldn't put make-up on him, but I knew Uncle Linc wouldn't mind." She beamed an "I'm so innocent" smile at me, her eyes twinkling.

"Did you ask him first?"

"I tried to, Mommy, but he didn't wanna wake up."

"Where's Tara and Veronica?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, walking off towards her bedroom, leaving me alone with Lincoln. I grabbed a pillow from under his feet and threw it at him, causing him to shoot off the couch.

"Don't you have your own couch to sleep on, Lincoln?"

"I, uh, no?"

"Where's Veronica?"

"She took Tara to the park or something. Maybe it was the beach, I dunno."

"You're about as helpful as Ally."

"Yeah, where is that little squirt anyway? Ally!" She came running out of her room, now equipped with a sombrero Sucre had sent her.

"Yes, Uncle Linc?" She asked sweetly.

"Gimme a hug, kid, I gotta get going."

"Aw, but I didn't get to finish your make-over."

"What make-over?"

"Uh, Lincoln, go look in a mirror," I said, covering my mouth with my hand, trying to contain my laugh. He walked down the hallway and admired himself in the bathroom mirror.

"Whoa, I look ten years younger, your Aunt Veronica won't even recognize me."

"I don't think she'd recognize you anyway, you're always over here sleeping on my couch," she said hotly, with special emphasis on the "my".

"First of all, I'm not always here, Miss Alexis. And secondly, I don't sleep, I rest." He was trying to dig himself out of the hole, and Ally let him off easy.

"I don't care, Uncle Linc, you can 'rest' on my couch whenever you want. Now give me my hug!" He lifted her up and she wrapped her arms around him, planting a big, wet kiss right on his forehead before hopping down and taking off.

"Your daughter's a lunatic, Sara."

"Only because she grew up around yours," I said with a wink, walking him to the door. "So are you guys coming by when Michael gets off work?"

"As far as I know. Take it easy."

I walked over to the couch, straightening it up a bit, and then grabbed my purse.

"Ally, do you want to go see Daddy?" I called across the house, grabbing my keys off the table at the sound of her feet thudding on the carpet.

"Yes!" She was jumping up and down, smiling ear to ear.

"Okay, come on," I said, taking her hand in mine like she'd done earlier. I'd just opened the door and saw Veronica, her hand posied, ready to knock, her eyes red rimmed. "What's wrong, V?" I asked, my face contorted with concern. "Uh, Ally, you and Tara go play in your room for a few minutes, okay? I'll call you when it's time to go see Daddy." I let go of her hand and watched the two of them run off before urging Veronica over to the couch. "Sit down, sweetie, what is it?"

"Lincoln's been having an affair, Sara." She started crying and my mind filled up with confusion.

"What do you mean? When would he even have time for an affair? He's either at work, at home, or over here sleeping on the couch."

"I don't know, but he is. Tara and me got home from the park and his cell phone was ringing, so I answered it without thinking. She asked for Lincoln, said she was his girlfriend. By that time, I was just angry, so I asked her how long, and she said for the past three months. What am I gonna do, Sara?" I was at a loss for words, so I just pulled her to me and let her cry on my shoulder as I worked out my thoughts.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"No, I, I can't. You don't know how hard it is for me to even think about him with another woman, much less talk about it, to him of all people."

"I know, honey, but you're going to have to do it. You can't just not let him know why you're upset with him."

"He cheated on me, Sara! He fucked another woman while I was taking care of our baby!" She pushed away from me and wiped her eyes furiously, crossing her arms. "I don't have to tell him a damn thing." I sighed heavily and closed my eyes, trying to tell myself that her anger was making her stubborn.

"What are you going to do then?"

"I'm kicking him ouy, or me and the kids are leaving, one way or another."

"Come on, Veronica, don't do that. I know, I know, what he did was beyond wrong, but you two have a beautiful family. Just...try to keep that in mind, okay? For Tara?"

"She'd be better off without him. He can still see them, though. That's it. Just, uh, don't tell anyone about any of this, okay? I'm sorry, I gotta go," she said, standing up and calling for Tara. They left me standing in the living room in a confused stupor, Ally looking up at me with concern.

"What's wrong, Mommy?"

"Uh, nothing," I said, shaking the cobwebs from my mind. "Ready to go?"

"I guess." She sounded almost depressed, as if she knew I was keeping something from her, and it made me think of the disappointment that was in my father's voice on more than one occasion. Her expression seemed to change in a heartbeat when she saw Michael, though, her eyes getting huge as she ran and jumped into his arms.

"How's my big girl doing?" He asked, kissing her forehead.

"Fine. What are you doing, Daddy?"

"Getting ready to close up the shop and go home so we can have our big dinner."

"Oh." The depression was back.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" She looked over at me, then back at him, motioning him to turn his back on me. He threw me a questioning glance and I shrugged, so he turned around.

"Something's going on and I don't think Mommy wants me to know," I heard her whisper, close to tears.

"Want me to talk to her for you?"

"Yeah," she said with a sniffle, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

"Okay, go play in the back for a second."

"Okay, Daddy." She hopped down and took off again, leaving me and Michael alone.

"What's going on, Sara?" I tried holding his gaze, but his eyes were burning a hole through me, even though they held nothing but concern.

"I, nothing," I muttered, looking at the ground.

"Sara..."

"Veronica doesn't want me to tell anyone, Michael."

"Tell anyone what?"

"I can't tell you!" I whispered loudly, gritting my teeth together, wanting to tell him so badly.

"Is it a surprise?"

"Oh, it'll be a surprise," I sighed, running my hand through my hair.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Yes and no. I'm sorry, Michael, but she doesn't want me telling anyone." He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him, his chin resting on top of my head, his hand running smoothly down my back.

"Don't apologize, Sara. I was doing just fine without knowing whatever it is, I'm sure I can continue doing just fine." I let out a weak laugh against his chest and reluctantly pulled away.

"What are you going to tell Ally?" She burst back through the door just then, cutting our conversation short.

"Improvising, I guess," he said, scooping his daughter up again.

"What's wrong with her, Daddy?"

"She's uh, she's just sad that you have to start school soon, sweetie."

"Why?"

"Because you've spent nearly every day with her for the past five years, now she's--,"

"No, why do I have to start school? Why can't I just stay home with Mommy forever? I don't ever want her to be sad."

"Well, you have to go to school to make new friends, and to learn new things."

"Tara's my friend, and you and Mommy can teach me whatever you want." It broke my heart to hear her logic, to know that Michael would have to tell her no.

"We'll figure something out, okay Allycat?" He knew this was a losing battle for him, but he gave her his sweetest smile anyway.

"Okay, Daddy. Can we go home now?"

"Sure thing. You two go wait in the car, I'll lock up and meet you out there," he said, putting her down.

"Come on, sweetie, let's go get you buckled up and everything." The drive home was short and restless, for me at least, tension seeming to hang over the car, keeping me nervous and on edge. The feeling only got worse when we pulled into the driveway and saw Veronica give Lincoln one final shove out the door, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, obsceneties flying out of his mouth at a mile a minute. Since I knew what was going on, I rolled up the power windows as quick as I could and told Michael to keep Ally entertained. I didn't give him a chance to argue or question me, I just bailed out of the car and ran across the lawn.

"Can you believe this shit, Sara?" He shouted, slamming his fist against the door, his eyes filled with a rage I'd never witnessed before. "She has the fucking nerve to think she can keep MY son, well she's got another thing comin'."

"Calm down, Lincoln, it's going to be okay, okay?"

"Can I use your phone? V fuckin' threw mine out the back door, I don't know where it is."

"Uh, yeah," I said hesitantly, pulling it out of my purse. "Can you try to be a little more quiet, though? Ally's in the car, and she already thinks something's wrong."

"Something IS wrong," he said, turning away and waiting for the call to connect. I sighed and jogged back over to the car, telling Michael to take Ally inside, let her play for a bit.

"Why's Uncle Linc standing outside with that backpack, Mommy?"

"He's uh, he's going camping," I said quickly, my cheeks burning red.

"Can I go?"

"Uncle Linc needs some grown up time, honey, okay?"

"Okay," she said, her voice sounding disappointed again, like she knew I was keeping secrets. Once they were inside, I went back over to Lincoln and caught the end of his conversation, him telling LJ to get over to mine and Michael's house. He absentmindedly handed me the phone, his eyes looking like a myriad of thoughts were racing through his mind.

"Mike," he said over my should, "Can me and LJ crash here for the night? We'll be gone first thing in the morning."

"What, you plan on disappearing again?"

"So what if I am?"

"What about Tara?"

"What about her?"

"You're not even going to fight for her? For your own daughter?" Their voices were quickly rising with anger, their faces inches apart, and I knew this was a fight I needed to stay out of.

"I don't need this shit from you, or from anyone, I'm out of here."

"Do you plan on abandoning her, like you abandoned LJ when he needed you the most?"

And that's when I saw Lincoln draw back and launch his fist at Michael's face, connecting with the side of his chin, sending him to the ground, and filling my chest with a panic attack.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Notes: **And here's the end of my mass updating with chapter two. Let me know what you think so far.

**Disclaimer: **(Still owning nothing)

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I could feel the blood surfacing on my knuckles, my brother's blood mixed with my own. I don't know how, but I cut his face when I hit him, and he was propped up on the ground, his eyes burning through me. I've never hit him before, even when I knew I should have, and tonight was no different, but I did it anyway. The next thing I knew, Sara was in my face, her hands repeatedly slamming against my upper body. She was yelling, but everything seemed so far away, I couldn't make out any of words, nor could I feel any of her slaps. I remember hearing Mike yell at her to stay out of it and he got up, ushering her towards the house. He was in front of me, staring at me with a mix of shock and disappointment, and before I could apologize, he spat his own blood at my feet, turning and leaving me standing there. I called after him but he kept walking, something my feet wouldn't allow me to do, and I choked on all the obsceneties that tried to come out of my mouth. I knew he wouldn't put LJ out on the streets, so I picked my bag up off the ground, slung it over my shoulder, and started walking, three grand hot in my pocket. Mike's last words kept echoing through my head, taunting me with their truthfulness, letting me know that I would probably end up abandoning my family yet again. I cursed my brother for being right, I cursed my wife for not letting me explain, but most of all, I cursed myself for walking away from this, for hitting Michael, for cheating on Veronica. I wouldn't of been able to give any excuse for what I'd done, but I could of at least offered and explanation, clear things up, but no. I left.

I rarely passed people on the street, but every single one of them seemed to haunt me. "She'll never take you back. Not again. Not this time." They didn't say it, but I swear it's what they were thinking, their brains screaming it at me as I walked by. I ducked into a gas station and bought a pack of Newports and lit one after deciding against liquor, even though it looked real tempting, especially under these circumstances. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to slow down my brain, relax my body, but nothing seemed to be working. Nothing would be alright, not now, not after everything that happened tonight. I seriously doubted if things could ever go back to anywhere near how they were before with Mike, much less with V. If it came down to it, I'd have to take her to court, to fight for custody of Tara. I'd have LJ for sure, we'd stick together and tough it out, and I wasn't going to stop until I had both of my kids. If Veronica wants to be a part of that, fine, if she doesn't, well, that's her choice, and hers alone. I needed to talk to Mike in the morning, swallow what little bit of pride I had left and apologize, try to make everything right. I didn't expect an apology from Sara, nor did I want one, much less deserve one. I hit her husband, my brother; as far as I was concerned, I got off easy.

"Dad, what happened?" I whirled around in time to see LJ throw his arms around me, and I pulled him into a tight hug.

"What're you doing, LJ? I thought I told you to go to Mike and Sara's."

"I did, and you weren't there. They said you took off, so I left. Uncle Mike tried following me in the car, but I lost him. Now what's going on?"

"Nothing, you need to get back before Mike has an aneurism."

"Not without you." Damn it, why'd he have to get my stubbornness, of all things.

"This isn't up for debate. Me and him aren't seeing eye to eye right now. Go get some sleep, we'll sort this out in the morning."

"Sort what out, Dad? And why can't we just go home?" I stood there in an ashamed silence, and something must've clicked in his head. "Aw, no, tell me you didn't..." I flicked my cigarette into the parking lot and stared out across the highway, avoiding his eyes. "Yeah, I'm gonna uh, head back," he said with disappointment, reaching out to put his hand on my shoulder, but changing his mind. "Have fun."

"LJ, I'm sorry," I said to his back, but he kept going without even a glance over his shoulder. "Fuckin' great," I muttered, lighting up again. "The only people that aren't pissed at me yet are Tara and Ally. It'll change though, give it time." I was positive that before long, I'd have everyone against me, and the thought crossed my mind that, not for the first time, Michael should've left me in prison. I might've legally deserved this freedom, but that's about it. Dying in there would be a hell of a lot easier than being torn apart on the inside out here. Things were going great until Tara was about two, and then everything just went downhill in a landslide. I caught hell for being out late, for smoking, for drinking, and it just seemed like she thought I was her damn son instead of her husband. I should've known it would happen, though. I'd finally let myself get close to her, now the curse was taking it's toll, it was taking her away from me. Being alone was inevitable for me, and technically, I brought it on myself. I was tempted to go drown my sorrows in a nineteen year old waitress, but I decided against it, knowing it would sever whatever diminutive chance I had left with Veronica. The worst part was that I couldn't tell anyone who I'd slept with, even though it was only twice, not "for the past three months". I still didn't know how V couldn't tell who she was based on the voice. Hell, maybe she DID know, maybe that's why it was so rough, but I sure as hell wasn't about to bring it up. It was a skeleton that I needed to bury, something that I never should've done in the first place, but a bumpy life at home coupled with intense amounts of alcohol once again led me off the straight and narrow.

I lit another cigarette and started walking without a destination, just following my feet, trying to convince my mind to wander off. I was unsuccessful, though. I ended up standing in the shadows across the street from Mike's house, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. I could see Veronica staring out of the window, tears occasionally rolling down her cheeks, and I had to pry my eyes away before I ran in there and made everything worse while trying to make it right. If I hadn't royally fucked up with Mike, I'd be over there asking him for help, asking him to devise some intricate plan of his to fix my mistakes. Even if I hadn't hit him earlier, he wouldn't be able to forgive me if he knew who I slept with, nor would anyone else. It was one of those things where I scolded myself the whole time it was happening, yet I didn't do anything to stop it. It was like how you know you shouldn't put metal in the microwave, but that one little part won't stop screwing with you until you do it, again and again.

"Go talk to her, Dad. I don't know how you messed up this time, but it's not worth losing everything you have." I snapped back to reality and whirled around, making out vague features of LJ's face in the darkness.

"This isn't like the other times. It's not like I passed out at a bar and didn't make it home."

"What'd you do?" It sounded like his earlier anger had left, leaving him genuinely curious.

"We shouldn't talk about this," I said, my eyes wandering back to Veronica, my heart aching.

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Dad, I'm about to turn twenty one. Keeping secrets is getting old, and in case you haven't noticed, I can handle the truth." He was right, to an extent, but something told me there was no way he'd be able to understand.

"LJ..."

"Forget it. You don't deserve Veronica anymore. You'd rather stand outside and have a pity party for yourself instead of sitting in there, comforting your wife." He started walking away and all of my previous anger was returning, but I tried my best to swallow it, knowing he was right, knowing that I should tell him.

"I cheated on her, LJ. Twice. Happy?"

"No, I'm not. Who'd you do it with?" He'd gotten my temper, there was no debate about that.

"That's none of your business," I said, avoiding his eyes, knowing damn well it was his business.

"And whose business is it, Dad? You sure as hell aren't in there with V."

"It's better if everyone's around when I say who it was, everyone can distance themselves from me at the same time."

"Wait, let me get this straight. You want to get your mistress together in the same place as your wife? What the hell, is it Sara or something?"

"Of course it's not Sara," I snapped, my voice a notch harsher than I'd intended. He just kep his gaze on me, his eyes narrowed. "Fine. You want to know? Come on, we'll go get this all over with tonight." I lit a cigarette and hot boxed it on the way to the door, outing it on the steel mailbox. "I'm sorry, LJ," I whispered, knocking on the door and turning around, staring off into the street, dreading everything that I had to say. Mike saw me and went to shut the door, but I wedged my foot in the way. "Mike, I need to talk to you, to everyone. I'll be gone after I've said my piece." He let out a disappointed chuckle and sighed, walking off towards the living room.

"Figures," he muttered, his hostility still there.

"I, uh, just wanted to apologize to all of you, first off, for everything. It wasn't supposed to happen like this, but I let myself get close to everyone again, it was just a matter of time." The only sound was LJ brushing past me and plopping down on the sofa, apparently eager, thinking he wanted to know all the details. "I didn't have any right to hit you, Mike, I'm sorry. Everything you said was the truth, and it struck a nerve somewhere."

Still silent.

"I haven't been cheating on you for three months, either, Veronica. It was twice, two consecutive nights, after our last big fight and you kicked me out. I know, it doesn't justify anything, but I just thought you should know." My voice trailed off a little, my mind busy prepping myself for the end of my speech.

"So who was she?" She sniffled. "Some cheap tramp you met at a bar?"

"No, it was uh, it was someone we all know." I was almost whispering now, my eyes dropped to the ground, my head already hanging in shame.

"Who?" Her voice actually was a whisper, one choked with tears and barely audible. My brain screamed at me, abusing me on the inside, knowing that the next word out of my mouth would ruin my relationship with everything in the room.

"Kiersten," I muttered, ashamed all over again, feeling everyone's eyes burning holes right through me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: **Sorry about the delay, me and LJ Chapters have "conflicting interests."

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

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I wanted to start throwing punches at Dad's face, I wanted to run away, I wanted to scream, and I wanted to cry, but I just sat there, my voice lost somewhere deep inside me. I managed to stand up and reach in my pocket, pulling out the black box with Kiersten's engagement ring in it and throwing it at him, bolting out of the back door. I was at the back of the yard and slammed my fist into the aluminum shed, which wasn't the smartest move in the world. The noise was loud and the pain shot up my hand but I kept walking, hoping the wall and landing on the beach. The wind had made the waves real choppy, the moonlight shining off the water, but I wouldn't have been able to enjoy it even if I wanted to. Just when I thought I'd seen it all, Dad had royally fucked me over again, and this time it was worse than any of the others. He was just...reckless. He didn't care about a damn thing other than himself. He didn't care about his wife, his brother, his daughter, and he sure as hell didn't care about me. No matter how bad he'd fucked up in the past, I'd always been the one waiting to forgive him whenever he turned up, eager to make everything go back to how it used to be, but not after this, not anymore. I couldn't care less if I never saw him or Kiersten again, good fucking riddance to them both. In the end, five years with her had gotten me nowhere, nowhere except on a lonely beach with my bleeding heart ripped out of my chest, still pumping in my hand. I reared my leg back and kicked the sand, slipping and falling right on my ass, only furthering my anger. I grabbed handfuls of the sand and threw it, standing up and making my way up the beach ramp into the street, tears stinging my eyes. I just didn't know how he could do this to me, much less understand how she could fuck my dad. I walked until I got to the surf shop and jogged around to the back, pulling out a bag of weed and a pipe, packing the bowl tight.

"Here's to forgetting my so-called family," I said, lighting it up for a deep hit, choking the first couple times until I adjusted to it's strength. I leaned against the brick of the building and closed my eyes, not even opening them when I heard that familiar voice next to me.

"Hey," she'd said, tugging at the bottom of my shirt a little bit.

"Get the fuck away from me." My voice was quiet as I blew the smoke out of the corner of my mouth, probably right into her face.

"What's wrong, LJ?" I opened my eyes and stared at her, not believing how she could pretend nothing had happened.

"Last time I checked, I'm not the one who was sleeping around. Goodbye." I cleared the bowl and shoved the pipe into my pocket, walking off.

"LJ!"

"Forget it. I'm done."

"LJ, don't do this, please. I love you." Her voice was pleading whimper and I wanted to do about thirty seven different things, but I settled for what I was already doing, being pissed, and spun around.

"Oh, right. You wanna fuck my Uncle Mike next? Huh? How could you do this to me, Kiersten? To us, after everything?"

"I'm sorry, it didn't happen how you think."

"Now you know what I think?" I'd surpassed the point of anger.

"I know how it sounds. Can we just talk? Please?"

"I've got nothing to say to you." That was a lie, I had so many things I wanted to say to her, but I wasn't ready to lower my guard.

"Then will you listen?" She was only inches from me and the only thing I could do to keep myself from hugging her was to slide down the wall and sit in the sand, my eyes focused on the water. She slowly slid down next to me, eliminating the purpose of my actions. "I know I made a mistake, LJ, and I'm sorry."

"Twice," I said, my anger gone, replaced with desolation and sorrow.

"I'd give anything to undo all of that. Out of all the fights we've had, all the dumb things I've done, that's the only thing I actually regret. I couldn't explain myself if I wanted to, I don't have any idea why I did it. Your dad, he scares me, like I don't know what would happen if I refused to do something he asked."

"He raped you?" My eyes were wide, my anger rushing back.

"Yes...no. I don't know, LJ. I didn't really want to, but I never said no." Tears streamed down her face, but she'd managed to keep her voice pretty level. "I figured it was a one time thing, something he'd get out of his system and then leave me alone, but he did it again, the next night. After that, I avoided being alone with him, even for two minutes." My head was reeling now, and I thought I was mad at him BEFORE. My world was spinning out of control right in front of my eyes, right there on the beach, and I didn't know if there was anything I could do to fix it. I still wanted to be mad at Kiersten for sleeping with him, and I still wanted to punch his lights out, but I wouldn't stand a chance against him. I remember on my eightteenth birthday, I thought I was finally big enough to take him.

I was wrong.

That was the worst beating of my life, and I don't think he even used an eighth of what he could've used on me. Me, him, and Uncle Mike were all goofing around outside, Sara and V had taken the kids somewhere, so I bucked up to him. He was just shoving me back for a bit, but I kept on antagonizing the situation, and I punched him in the jaw. He hit me once in the arm and it knocked me to the ground but I jumped right back up, which was a mistake, because I got knocked down again, and every time after that. I had bruises on top of bruises that night, and no movement in that arm for five or six days. It was a lesson learned in my book, but I'd give anything if I could change the outcome and physically show him how much he hurt me. It's not like he cares anyway, or else he wouldn't have done it, but my brain was running circles around itself with useless buts and what-ifs.

"Are you okay, LJ?" I turned my head and looked at her, and I swear I could see all the way down to her soul, see every last one of her fears and insecurities, secrets and regrets, mistakes and hopes. But the only thing I could actually see was my life going down the drain; I had a one way ticket on a hell-bound train with nothing to lose anymore.

"I'm fine. I'll call you tomorrow or something," I said, standing up and brushing the sand off of me.

"Are we, I mean, are we okay?"

"Yeah, sure." I shoved my hands into my pockets and nearly jogged all the way back to my house. I went around to my bedroom window, the one I always left open, and crawled inside, being quiet just in case anyone was home. I snuck through the house and did a quick scan, making sure everyone was gone, then drug a chair back to my room. I took the cover off of the air conditioning duct and shoved my hand inside, feeling around until my fingers danced over the metal I was looking for. I tossed the pistol on my bed and hopped down, taking the back off of my Playstation and removing the clip, laying it next to the gun while I changed. I took a final look around, making sure everything was how I found it before tucking the gun into the back of my jeans and crawling back out of the window. My mind was at war with itself, arguing back and forth, telling me to do it, telling me not to do it. I didn't know the specifics of "it", but I knew it involved robbing some place, maybe for attention, maybe to make a statement, or maybe because I'd lost the finals shreds of my sanity that night. I dressed casually in dark clothes, not like a stereotypical burglar or anything; I'd learned from my dad when he didn't have a job and couldn't afford to do whatever it was that he used to do.

I had so many possibilities of what I could do, but none of them seemed to be enough to actually calm me down. I could hit a business, a residence, mug a couple people; I had the power itching at my fingertips, aching to make someone hurt as bad as I was. I eventually decided to go back to the gas station from earlier, catch 'em right as they were closing. I stopped at the road and scanned the parking lot, only seeing the employee's car before marching up to the door, drawing the pistol and entering.

"Open the register." My voice surprised me, it sounded low and even, yet angry at the same time, almost psychotic.

"Don't hurt me," the cashier stammered, his eyes pleading with me.

"Open the register!" Boy, he was testing my patience tonight. Yet people wonder why clerks get shot up in robberies, they can't follow simple directions worth a damn.

"LJ!" I spun around and saw Uncle Mike, a bottle of soda in one hand, a picture of me in another. Great, a search party.

"What? What are you doing here?"

"Turn around and I'll shoot, kid." I heard the cashier's voice behind me, and I quickly realized that my night just went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds.

"Don't shoot him," Uncle Mike said to the guy, his voice calm. "LJ, put the gun down."

"Why should I? It doesn't matter." My hand was shaking now, the gun still pointed at him.

"Your dad messed up big time, I know that, but it's not worth it. If you do this, you won't be ready for the consequences. Just...put the gun down." I considered what he said, then I saw a mirror in the back of the store, and the cashier didn't even have a gun. I looked at Uncle Mike apologetically and did what anyone would do in a tight spot like this and whirled around, the gun aimed back at the clerk.

"The register, open it," I yelled, my eyes darting between him and Uncle Mike, my pulse racing. He emptied the money into a plastic bag and tied it like I'd instructed, then handed it to me. I took a final glance at my uncle before I turned and bolted out of the door, the gun tucked away in my jeans again. Bag in hand, I raced down the street, my feet thundering on the pavement, my heart pounding in my ears, my brain only focused on getting away. I'd already crossed the line, no matter if I kept running or stopped and waited to be caught, the punishment would be the same. I could hear the sirens, they were a hell of a lot closer than I'd hoped, and it only churned my legs faster, my arms pumping wildly, carrying me into the darkness, away from all the mistakes. I ran around someone's house and scaled the fence in the back, landing wrong and twisting my ankle. Even with my breath coming in short, loud gasps, I could hear the crack of the bones, but I pushed myself to keep going even though I was more unbalanced, my run looking like a sprinting hobble. I made my way through the woods, using the moon to guide me until it was gone, then I strayed off the path and kept moving. Fresh leaves covered the ground, aiding me in the lack of footprints, and for that I was thankful. I stopped and leaned against a tree when I noticed the sirens were closing in, trying for a final chance to catch my breath and recuperate, trying to ignore the pain that had shot up my leg into my side. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness then looked around, searching for a miraculous escape, finding nothing. The cops must've got lucky because I heard them not too far off, I could see their flashlights dancing around in the shadows about forty yards away. I tied the bag into my belt loop and jumped, my hand slipping off of the branch, sending me to the ground again, my ankle screaming in protest. I scattered back to my feet and tried again, finally gripping the bark and climbing my way up the tree just as the light bounced around below me. If I moved, they'd hear me for sure; my only hope was to stay still and pray that they went under me.

I heard four or five guns cock, followed by a chorus of "Freeze!", then the sound of snapping wood. The branch kept sagging farther down until it snapped, my back slamming against the ground, my vision fading into darkness at the sight of cops rushing me, guns and handcuffs ready.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Sorry about the delay, I got a little distracted with NFS: Carbon, and I wasn't too sure how to aproach this chapter. Just a side note, I'm trying to surpass 75 reviews with this story, so let me know what you think! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Guess what?! I own nothing even halfway relevant to Prison Break aside from the season one DVD. Still.

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I followed the sirens from the gas station, and hours later found out that they were keeping him in custody there at least until his first appearance the next afternoon. I called Sara's cell and told her, then listened to her and V talk back and forth before interjecting that I was going out for a drink. A car would've been nice, but I told myself the exercise was better, so I walked through the business part of the city looking for those neon lights. I still wasn't too comfortable with my lack of toes so they were covered in closed-toe shoes, along with my arms in some long sleeved cotton tee. I hated the memories attached to the pictures, and I prayed that Ally and Tara never had to find out about them, much less learn what they meant. As far as I was concerned, that part of all of us was dead, and I had been the one that got stuck wearing the evidence of it on my sleeve for everyone to see.

"I just need a drink," I muttered to myself, my eyes searching everywhere for some halfway decent bar. At the rate I was going, some filthy strip club would do the trick. "Speak of the devil," I said halfway across the intersection, noticing the exact type of filthy club a couple of blocks down the side street. Whatever. At this point, I just needed some liquor burning it's way down my throat, coursing through my veins. The glowing pink sign deemed the establishment as The Bottom's Up Club, furthering my distaste for the place. Couldn't anyone come up with a halfway classy name anymore?

The atmosphere inside wasn't any better; awkwardly dim, filled with smoke and horrible music. I should've expected as much when the bouncer just eyeballed me as I walked in, not demanding a cover charge. The free places were by far the worst. The "dancers" were surprisingly pretty, though, not that I was really interested in anyone, but it was nice that the place had at least one perk. I was just concerned on alcohol consumption followed by a night of hard sleep.

I sat down at the unpleasant bar and ordered three shots of Tequila; Sucre had gotten me kind of hooked on the stuff back in Panama, and this was one of those times when Scotch on the rocks wasn't going to cut it.

"Outrageously priced drinks, too," I thought cynically as I handed over a ten, telling her to keep the change or give me credit or whatever it was that they did. She pocketed it in a heartbeat. I tossed my head back with the first shot, letting it slide down and warm me all the way through before setting the glass down, running my finger along it's smooth rim. I was used to cheap Central American Tequila, not this fancy, high class stuff I got. I scoffed at my thought; considering anything in this place to be fancy or high class was simply ludicrous.

"Laughing at anything in particular?" I could instantly tell who was talking to me by the feel of her hand on my arm, and her low, non-intrusive voice.

"Nika," I said, turning around slowly to confirm my suspicions, not having the slightest idea how it could be her, but it was. She looked just the same as she had half a decade prior, maybe a little tense or stretched thin, but there weren't many insignificant changes, much less big ones.

"Is this a bad time?"

"Oh, uh, no," I mumbled, trying to calm the storm in my head. "Uh, sit down, please." I gestured to the equally filthy stool next to me, almost feeling ashamed at the lack of upkeep in this place. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Oh, yeah. Rough night, I guess."

"Need a listener?"

"I'll be fine. What about you, what are you doing here?"

"I, uh, this is my club, if you can call it that. I just bought it a couple of weeks ago, haven't had much of a chance for renovation yet."

"I haven't seen you since Chicago," I said near breathlessly, still not fully believing that the both of us could end up in the same nobody town, much less in the same strip club on the same night.

"I got my Associate's in Business Management, and I was looking around and found this for sale, figured I might be able to do something productive with it, seeing as how I'm kind of . . .'well versed' in this type of environment.

"I can't believe it," I muttered, downing shot number two.

"That I made it through college?"

"No, no, not that. It's the fact that we would run into each other like this, in a pretty much uncharted beach town."

"I know, Michael, I was just kidding. Relax a little." She smiled at me, her hand gently back on my arm, lingering maybe a second too long. I didn't complain, but I didn't really mind, either. It felt nice; the warm, emotional contact, the sincerity in her eyes. Me and Sara weren't really having problems, but with all the work we did at the shop and around the house, it was like we could never get a moment for just us. Tonight wasn't any different, she was trying to keep V from coming apart at the seams, a job that must be easier said than done, so it was basically me fending for myself again, passing the time until I lost consciousness in an alcohol-induced stupor. It was nice to see an old friend, even if the circumstances were a little bit uncanny. I suddenly remembered my manners and edged the remaining shot glass across the bar. She drank it like a pro and ordered two more, so I reached for my wallet. "Oh, no," she said, stopping me with another touch before I grabbed any bills. "I own the place, remember? Free drinks." She winked at me playfully and we shared an easy laugh, maybe a little too easy. Sitting in a run down strip club with your ex-wife shouldn't be this easy, or this fun, but it was, and I wasn't about to ruin it with any objections. I wasn't doing anything wrong, I mean it's not like I was sleeping around with my son's girlfriend or anything. I was catching up with an old friend who just happened to be my ex-wife, and nothing more. Or so I kept telling myself, so much that sometimes I'd be so preoccupied I couldn't hear what she was saying. She didn't seem to notice, or she didn't seem to mind because she never brought it up, and I was thankful I wasn't being put on the spot for not paying attention. It's not like I was intentionally zoning out, but I still felt bad about it whenever I drifted back into the here and now.

I don't know how much we ended up drinking, but the shots kept coming, even after last call and the place had closed, the two of us being left alone. The DJ had left the horrible music on, which surprisingly wasn't that horrible anymore after all this Tequila, but it was alright, that way the club would never just be quiet. I finally got around to telling her about Lincoln and LJ and Kiersten and Veronica, going into an overwhelming amount of detail, and Nika just sat there and listened to me ramble, not interrupting at all. As expected, she was pretty much dumbfounded by the whole thing as much as everyone else, only being able to offer one piece of advice.

"Stay strong, Michael," she said. "Don't stray away from faithfulness, from Sara. Nothing's worth the price tag that would come with that." Her words were spoken quietly and sincerely, and I sat there trying to let them sink in, knowing she was right, and knowing that I never planned on being like my brother, not in that aspect at least.

It was three thirty before either of us noticed the time, but the alcohol had kind of gotten me to the point of not really worrying about it.

"I've got to go, Michael, there's a lot of things I have to do about the club tomorrow."

"You mean later today?"

"Yeah, that's it," she said with a laugh, standing up and walking away.

"I'll walk you home." I wasn't really loud, it sounded kind of like I was talking to the pyramid of empty shot glasses, but she seemed to have heard me.

"Okay, I'm just grabbing my purse and jacket real quick." I looked around the club, noticing that it looked a good deal better without all the smoke and drunk guys and obnoxious yelling. I realized that Nika was going to do a great job with this place, renovation as well as management. "Ready?"

"Uh, sure," I said, being snapped out of my little thought bunnies. She killed the music, then the lights, locking the front door behind us, the morning wind throwing her hair around her face. I couldn't help but notice the moon shine off of her pupil, giving her eyes a breathtaking glimmer, almost making her look surreal. "So, uh, where are you staying?" I asked quickly when she turned around, unaware if she knew I'd been staring at her.

"Just some little apartment complex a few blocks up the road. It's cheap, but nice."

"That's the best kind," I said with a halfway grin. The drunken smile remained on my face until my hand accidentally brushed up against hers, flooding me with guilt, like I was trying to hold her hand. I tried telling my conscience that that was the farthest thing from the truth but it wouldn't listen. I saw Nika smile out of the corner of my eye when it happened, only fueling my false repentance about the whole thing. "Calm down," I thought, angry at myself for acting foolish and blowing the slightest things out of proportion.

"Do you want to come in for a minute? Rest your feet before you have to walk all the way back home?"

"I uh, yeah, that'd be great," I said, following her inside, closing the door softly behind me.

"I've got to get out of this ungodly business suit, though. Make yourself at home, there's beer in the fridge if you want. Grab me one, too, if you go that way." Then she was gone, leaving me drifting through her apartment in awe, admiring how nice it looked, and how much it was just . . .her. I lazily headed to the kitchen, grabbing two cans of beer as I peered around her selection of cold food, heading back over and sitting on the couch. I put her can on a napkin on the coffee table and leaned back, popping my top and taking a long drink. "So, what do you think?"

"You look amazing," I breathed, trying to eye her up and down inconspicuously.

"I was talking about the apartment, but thank you." She laughed and bowed, sitting down next to me and grabbing her beer. My face must've been a hundred shades of embarrassment red at how I misconstrued her question. She did look fantastic, though, in only a worn out pair of running shorts and a slightly oversized tee shirt.

"I'm um, I'm sorry," I stammered, my eyes refusing to meet hers.

"Don't be, I'm flattered." She shoved my arm playfully and laughed again, causing me to wonder why I couldn't be so carefree like that, why I had to be so uptight, why my mind wouldn't quit thinking about what was under those clothes. I wanted to blame the alcohol, and it probably was responsible to a certain extent, but I'd been like this since I saw her right after my first shot. "What do you think is going to happen to LJ tomorrow?"

"Honestly? I don't have the slightest clue. This is only his second legit run-in with the cops but I mean, it was armed robbery and evading arrest. The judge will probably set bail, though, but when sentencing comes, I don't think there's much of a chance he'll get off with a slap on the wrist." She nodded solemnly, her gaze still holding mine but looking like she was deep in thought.

"Do you blame Lincoln?" She asked finally, taking a small sip of her beer, then licking her lips.

"For what?" I'd got so entranced in focusing on her lips that I forgot what we were talking about.

"For LJ doing what he did."

"I don't know . . .I guess I kind of do. It all went downhill in a matter of three or four hours, and I'm pretty sure it had to do with Lincoln sleeping with Kiersten. Hell, it may have just been the fact that Lincoln was sleeping around, you know? LJ loves Veronica and hates it when his dad screws up like this, but it was worse this time. He stooped to a whole different level." My voice trailed off into a yawn, followed by Nika doing the same. Before I knew it, my feet were propped up on the coffee table and she was stretched out, her head resting on my shoulder fast asleep, and I was right behind her, my eyes drifting closed slow and peaceful.

I was forced into consciousness by the shrill sound of my cell phone ringing, a sound that didn't do anything productive for my hangover. I couldn't find a clock but the sun was up, Nika's arm draped across my waist as I tried to recall everything from the previous night in fast forward. I eased her arm and head off of me, standing up too quickly and almost vomiting before getting to the bathroom to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Michael, where are you? I've been worried sick. I've been calling for the past six hours, are you okay?"

"I'm uh, yeah, I'm fine," I said through the extreme cottonmouth, all the guilt rushing back. "I'll be home in twenty minutes, okay? I love you."

"Love you."

Click.

I turned on the faucet and drank from it, rinsing my face while I was at it, trying to ease the hangover as quick as I could. I dried off and rushed out, looking for a pen to at least leave Nika a note, but she was standing in the living room with her arms crossed, looking sleepy and more than a little confused.

"Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess, if you count spending the night with my ex-wife as okay." She recoiled slightly, the hurt being evident in her eyes. "No, I didn't meant it like that, Nika. You're more than my ex-wife, you're a great friend, it's just . . .I have to go. I've still got to make it home, try to explain everything to Sara, change, and get to the courthouse in less than an hour."

"Call me later and let me know how it goes with him," she said, still somewhat distant from how rude my last comment sounded.

"Okay. Take care, Nika."

"You, too."


End file.
